


Loyal to a Fault

by TeyrianTimelord



Category: Elisabeth - Levay/Kunze, Elisabeth das Musical, Sherlock (TV)
Genre: And Der Tod can see Molly, Molly can see Der Tod, not really romance, the crossover no one asked for
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-05-07
Updated: 2015-05-07
Packaged: 2018-03-29 12:32:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,091
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3896458
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TeyrianTimelord/pseuds/TeyrianTimelord
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sometimes death follows Molly, but more importantly, Molly follows death. Der Tod is intrigued by the girl he does not scare.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Loyal to a Fault

**Author's Note:**

> So this is the ridiculous crossover no one ever asked for and no one will probably ever read, but I like the concept. I might rewrite it later or expand on it later; depends on my interest and its reception.
> 
> Anyhow, enjoy my ravings of a madwoman~

Molly is eight years old the first time she sees him.

It was an unseasonably hot day August and her parents had allowed her to go to the lido for the day with the neighbor kids. She usually hated pools, even at a young age, but it was just too sweltering to do anything else. It had seemed as if the entire city had gotten sick of the heat and decided to go swimming at the same time. She and the neighbor kids played silly games with other children they met, like “Marco Polo,” tag, and competitions to see who could hold their breath the longest all while dodging teenagers messing with their friends and adults just trying to cool off. There were so many people, no one even noticed when he started sinking to the bottom of the pool. Randy, his name was, the little brother of the twins who were the same age as Molly. It wasn’t until an old man treading water kicked the back of the boy’s waterlogged head that anyone realized they hadn’t seen Randy in more than ten minutes. There were just too many people and it was so hot. By the time the twins started screaming and the old man drug his body onto the pavement, it was long past too late.

The police were phoned, lights were flashing everywhere, everyone at the pool suddenly started screaming and shouting and crying. But not Molly. Not Molly, and not him. She was too busy staring at him. He sat alone on a bench at the edge of the pool, completely clothed in a blue and black suit. He is perfectly calm, serene, amused almost, watching the panicked people scurry and fuss. Molly couldn’t help but gaze on with intrigue. Who goes to a pool on the hottest day of summer wearing a suit and then just watches a child drown? Not a normal adult, at least, not any adult she’s ever met before. She wanted to ask the strange man why he’s so weird, but she’s not sure she has the courage. Before she can make up her mind, her parent arrive and whisk her away.

Molly is seventeen the second time she sees him, and the first time he sees her

She could not remember a time in her life when her mother spent so much time on Molly’s hair than she did for prom. They stayed in the bathroom for hours while Mrs. Hooper took meticulous care to curl and place every strand in its perfect place. Molly groaned a little over having to sit still for so long, but it was worth it when she finished. By the time she added the makeup and the dress, Molly felt like a princess being whisked away to the ball. Her date was a boy who had been her lab partner for the previous semester, a cute but quite boy who cared more for being a wallflower than doing actual dancing, but Molly was okay with that. She danced enough for them both, fully allowing herself to enjoy the last party before graduation. After all, there was no reason not to. As soon as she went off to uni it would be all studying all the time (she _needed_ the good grades to get into the St. Bart’s pathology doctorate program). Even if her date had the enthusiasm of a wooden plank, she still had a blast.

When the DJ played a slow waltzing song for couples, Molly utilized the time to stop by the loo and touch up her eyeshadow. It was only halfway through the night and the shimmering powder was already starting to smear off her face. The moment she stepped into the water closet, however, she was met with the shrill screams of horrified girls.

“Call an ambulance!” the football player who sat behind Molly in geography shrieked at no one in particular. “Oh Jesus, I think Amber O.D.ed! Oh Jesus! Oh Christ!”

Molly had never met Amber before, but she assumed that Amber was the tan skinned girl in the gorgeous gold dress lying face-down on the floor with a bottle of pills still clutched in her thin hand. By then a teacher had come in to investigate the noise and was calling for medical attention, and Molly was quickly shoved back out into the corridor along the ballroom by nosy teenagers and concerned adults. She spotted him standing next to the doorway of the ballroom, watching intently as the hordes of young people gathered in a crowd of glittering chaos. It was déjà vu from the day at the pool she thought she had forgotten. He wore the same black and blue suit and the same nonchalant countenance as he casually observed the madness. And there she was staring at him again.

She heard her friends calling her name, but before Molly turned to acknowledge them, he briefly looked her way. There was a moment, possibly the shortest moment in history, but still a moment, when his blank eyes showed a flicker of recognition and curiosity at the sight of her. She quickly pivoted to signal to her friends that she was fine, but by the time she turned back around to look for him, he was gone again.

Molly is twenty two the third time she sees him and the first time they speak.

It rained the day of her dad’s funeral. She felt guilty showing up to the cemetery with her bright lilac umbrella in a sea of black, but it was neither the time nor the money to run to the store and get a more appropriate one; she was already late. The looks of disapproval from her mum and grandmother burned. Each disgusted glance they threw her seemed to sear the same message into her flesh. _Who is this girl we supposedly raised who won’t skip a class even for her own father’s funeral? What’s wrong with her?_ Molly kept her eyes on the wet ground and her ears on the droning priest to lock them out. It felt as if they were accusing her of not caring that her dad was dead; accusing the tears she had shed at the news of his passing as a rouse. It hurt to know they thought she didn’t care, when she knew her dad would have wanted her to stay in school. Besides, the dad she loved wasn’t in that coffin anyway…

The priest was still rambling on prayers in Latin when Molly saw him out of the corner of her eye, standing a few graves over. He still wore that same damned suit despite the rain, but this time instead of intently watching the other mourners rich in their weeping and sniffling and wailing, he was simply leaning up against a headstone and twirling a white lily between his glove-covered fingers. He looked exactly the same. But that was impossible, Molly told herself. The same man she had seen in years past could not possibly look the same now as he did when she was eight. When he met her gaze this time, though, she did not let anyone pull her away like at the pool or the prom. Molly ignored the scornful glares of her mother and drifted away from the service and to the strange man who seemed to take so much pleasure in misery and agelessness.

            She didn’t keep his gaze for long. By the time Molly shuffled over to where he was sitting, he had gone back to examining his lily. For a few moments she just stood there, trying to convince herself that he was real and not just a figment of her imagination. He looked real enough with bright blue eyes and flowing blonde hair and skin only slightly paler than average. But he was exactly as she remembered him, and that was unnatural.

            “Did you know that lilies were first picked for human ritual in 1600 B.C., but they did not become funeral symbols until the Victorian era in England?” he asked casually without looking up from the soaking flower. His voice was chillingly normal.

“Why do I keep seeing you?” Molly demanded, her own voice wavering. “Who are you?”

He let out a musical laugh as he rose to his feet, taking a few steps toward Molly. Every instinct told her to back up, but her feet were frozen on the earth, mud starting to seep into her shoes.

“You’re a clever girl,” he purred. “I’m sure you will figure it out by the time we meet again.”

Molly started to sputter a wordless protest, but he silenced her by a finger to her lips. The damp, cold leather made her shiver, but not half as much as the water droplets from the lily as he tucked it behind her ear and into the folds of her hair. She could hear relatives starting to call out for her, and she tried to resist turning her head. She knew the moment she looked away he would be gone. Molly tried to fight it, but the sound of clomping footsteps coming up the slope from behind grabbed her sight just long enough for him to be whisked away into nothingness.

And now she can see him again, standing amongst the hurried members of the homeless network as they scramble to take away Sherlock’s “body.” While the rest of the people scurry around in a hurried frenzy to pull off the heist, he simply stands in the middle of the street, back ramrod straight and shoulders pulled back with… indignation, perhaps? He wasn’t at all relaxed or entertained looking like he had been in the past, oh no. He wasn’t even looking at the lemmings who ran in circles around him without noticing his presence. No, this time he’s staring, no, glaring, right up to the window where Molly is standing. A shiver ran up her spine and she could feel every hair on her body prickle under the chill, but she still put her sleeve to her forehead to dab away the sweat beading along her brow. In the mere time it took her to blink, he vanished, and Molly felt a knot form in her throat.

“How dare you?!” the icy voice growls from behind her, and Molly jumps like a startled cat.

“How dare I what?” she asks meekly through her dry throat, turning to face him.

His face is even harsher now that she can see it up close. Those blue eyes that once before looked at her with softness and curiosity were now burning with a frozen fury. He takes a few long strides forward, causing Molly to gasp and retract until her back is pressed against the wall. Her hands grasp at the flat surface, desperately trying to find some form of defense in the unyielding smoothness.

“How dare you trick me?” he hissed, not even needing to raise his voice to sound terrifying. “I have always taken an interest in the deaths that surround you, Molly Hooper. My interests are not to be toyed with.”

 _I’m sure you will figure it out by the time we meet again._ The words were ringing in Molly’s ears, echoing around her mind, and then it dawned on her. Everything finally made sense.

“Death,” she barely breathed.

His lips flicked up in a brief grin, but the scowl remained around his eyes. Before she even had time to register that she needed to raise an arm in defense, his hand, still gloved in the same black leather, darted out and snaked around her neck, pressing down hard enough on her throat to make gasping for air a struggle.

“Clever girl. But I have to say, I am very disappointed in this turn of events.”

He squeezed a little harder, making Molly choke.

“You were so loyal; tending to those who fell when my job was done. I rather enjoyed watching you work when you could no longer see me, putting meaning and art to my handiwork. You had potential, so much beautiful potential.”

“I didn’t mean to,” she croaks with what little she has left in her lungs. “I just wanted to save my friend.”

He lets her go just as the corners of her mouth start to turn blue. She falls to her knees, overestimating what strength she had left.

“Loyal to a fault,” he scoffs as he kneels down to her side. “Just make sure you don’t forget to whom you owe it.”


End file.
